


Here Is A Shell For You

by Tournesol



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Fluff, M/M, Oral Sex, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-04 21:58:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3092108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tournesol/pseuds/Tournesol
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The smutty aftermath of former friends-with-benefits Enjolras and Grantaire's failed first official date.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Here Is A Shell For You

The restaurant had been a bad idea. After months of casually fucking and finally agreeing to go out on a first official date, it had all been too stilted, too formal for them although Enjolras can’t complain when Grantaire had donned a crisp button down for this, the dark of his shirt complimenting the stark white of his skin all too much.

Still. They’d made their escape right after their entrées, looking into each other's eyes. Grantaire had been jumpy, Enjolras reluctant to meet his eyes and uncharacteristically laconic because it wasn’t them.

The decision to leave had been made in one of those silent reading into each other’s eyes moment, quite democratic, everybody won.

They’d made a beeline for Grantaire’s apartment, where they’d eaten leftovers, cozy on the couch, after making themselves comfortable, Grantaire having let go of his jacket for a blue grey cable knit jumper with a high collar and Enjolras stealing one of Grantaire’s worn fleece jumper.

They’ve been doing their own things for a while, Enjolras reading and Grantaire busy with his computer, seating next to each other in companionable silence.

Enjolras has been coming closer to Grantaire by increments, their shoulders and hips first touching, then wrapping his arms around R’s waist, burying his nose in the inviting slope of R’s neck, into which he’s been whispering sweet affectionate nothings, R’s curls at the nape of his neck tickling Enjolras’ nose, Enjolras busy putting R’s scent to memory.

Enjolras’ hands have been making their way under Grantaire’s jumper, tantalising and warm, registering every intake of breath and flinch of muscle as R pretends not to be affected, even though he’s been reading the same paragraph on his screen for fifteen minutes.

Enjolras can't help his smug grin as R puts his computer away to turn around and meet Enjolras’ mouth for a searing kiss, relaying all the longing and promises for the night, soft strokes of his tongue when wanted and heated presses of his lips and teeth when needed.

Whether it’s from the new established state of their relationship or the salvaging of their failed date, neither of them can deny the thrill of this all, the electrifying sensations as their hands are roaming under clothes, skimming skin anew, as if this isn’t a thing they’re accustomed to by now.

“Take your clothes off,” orders Enjolras hungrily, surprised at the desperate tone of his voice.

Grantaire, the little shit, replies by taking Enjolras’ jumper and shirt both off and latching his mouth onto Enjolras’ collarbones, eliciting a moan, not settling down until a red purple mark is raised.

Setting on a task to make Enjolras unravel, Grantaire won’t let anything put him to distraction until his goal is met, that’s why he doesn’t pay heed to Enjolras’ hands sliding dangerously low down his back while his own settle at the waistband of Enjolras’ tight jeans at the front.

With clever fingers, Grantaire pops Enjolras’ jeans open before cupping Enjolras over his briefs, feeling him hard already.

Next to Grantaire’s ear, Enjolras bites off a moan, poorly disguised as a gasp.

Grantaire touches him everywhere but where Enjolras wants him too, and yet rendering the skin sensitive and screaming for attention in the trail of his touches, an awareness of self Enjolras can’t process as his mind slowly leaves the realm of coherent thinking for sensation alone.

Enjolras’ clothes are discarded on the floor save for his briefs. He doesn’t know how long their making out has been going on and frankly, he doesn’t care, not with Grantaire’s hands on him and his lips on his. But as his hands trail from Grantaire’s hair and to his neck, the thick wool of Grantaire’s jumper coarse against his fingertips and lacking the warmth and softness of the skin he seeks, Enjolras breaks the kiss to frown indignantly at Grantaire. The effect of which would probably be more reprimanding if not for the way his eyes are slightly unfocused, the red high in his cheeks and the mess his hair is.

“You’re wearing too many clothes, didn’t I tell you to take them off?” says Enjolras, mustering all the authority he can, which is not a lot, considering how he is squirming under Grantaire, frustrated beyond belief.

“Oh yeah? What are you gonna do about this?” murmurs Grantaire, teasing despite the obvious bulge Enjolras can feel against his thigh, Grantaire’s apparent composition surely the result of bravado, or so Enjolras hopes.

Grantaire does not move an inch and his eyes take on a dangerous glint, the one which was once reserved to get a rise out of Enjolras, the one that still does but is now aptly used in the bedroom.

Enjolras knows what Grantaire expects of him, so he loses no time and grabs the hem of Grantaire’s jumper to take it off him. It does not go according to plan as in Enjolras’ eagerness it gets stuck around Grantaire’s head, one of his arms still trapped in a sleeve, making the two of them laugh.

They indulge in it for a little while, Grantaire kissing the tip of Enjolras’ nose and the smile off his lips, until their bodies shaking with laughter against each other wake more pressing matters.

They’re _finally_ skin on skin, with Grantaire’s clothes next to Enjolras’ on the floor and Enjolras could weep of relief if it wasn’t sharpening his desire, making him want for more instead of providing relief.

Enjolras rolls them over on the couch, straddling Grantaire’s hips and pinning Grantaire’s hands next to his head on the armrest, letting himself enjoying the view of Grantaire spread out underneath him, marking with his eyes the path he intends on taking his hands and mouth, mapping the spots he’s learnt make Grantaire respond the most.

Enjolras presses his lips against Grantaire’s neck, sucking and biting, feeling the moan he elicits as he grinds his hips down Grantaire’s. He’s made his appreciation for Grantaire’s tattoos known in the past, mythological references lost on Enjolras who is now trailing his tongue down the dark lines marking Grantaire’s skin, from neck to hip, flowers curling around the straight lines and dots of constellations Enjolras doesn’t know the name of, but which his fingers could trace from memory in the dark.

Enjolras lets go of Grantaire’s hands, which ends up grabbing Enjolras’ hair, to trail his fingers down his ribs while his mouth gets busy biting and sucking, from his sternum, down to the waistband of his briefs. Enjolras stops briefly there and the grasp Grantaire has on his hair tightens.

“I want to go down on you,” says Enjolras as he noses along the skin at the edge of Grantaire’s underwear.

“Yes, Enjolras, _please_ …” replies Grantaire breathily, without looking at him.

Enjolras scoots down lower to make himself more comfortable between Grantaire’s legs, and with Grantaire’s hands still in his hair, mouthes at Grantaire’s hard cock through his underwear.  

He’s as desperate as Grantaire to actually get his mouth on him, but the string of curses and _Enjolras please_ which get less coherent and more breathy are worth the wait. Enjolras doesn’t yield to impatience, not yet, he makes a slow motion out of getting Grantaire out of his briefs and uses the move to trail kisses and press his stubble up the inside of R’s thighs, where it makes him tremble with need, so that when he finally presses his tongue against R’s cock, Grantaire cries out a punched out sound.

Enjolras knows Grantaire by heart by now, they’ve had their share of quick fucks and casual hook ups but it’s something Enjolras loves to do, as he is demonstrating right now, gripping the base of R’s cock the way he knows Grantaire favors, and starts sucking on the tip of his cock, slowly, teasing, putting to use every preference of Grantaire’s he’s catalogued, until the tone of Grantaire’s _Enjolrases_ takes on a pleading edge. He takes more and more of Grantaire’s cock in his mouth, relaxing his throat to take him to the root, his tongue flat against the flushed length of him, sucking harder when he bobs his head up.

Grantaire can get pretty vocal in bed, especially when Enjolras swallows around him, strangled _ohs_ and _ahs_ that go straight to Enjolras’ cock, and he could come just from this, from the way he can taste Grantaire’s cock on his tongue and feel it twitch in his mouth, has already done so in the past, much to Grantaire’s delight, but he won’t let himself be distracted because he has other plans for how he wants the night to end and this is not it. He bobs his head up and down some more, wanting Grantaire a little bit more on the side of desperate, a fit he achieves by simultaneously moaning around him and pressing a thumb against his perineum.

He eases off Grantaire’s cock, making him grunt in the process, takes his arms off of Grantaire’s hips where he’d put some weight to prevent Grantaire from thrusting too wildly in his mouth, and has the audacity to smile at the state he’s put Grantaire in.

“Why did you stop?!” asks Grantaire, tears pricking in the corner of his eyes.

“Because I don’t want you to come right now. I want you to fuck me,” says Enjolras, the picture of nonchalance if not for the fact that his lips are still red and shiny from when he had Grantaire’s dick in his mouth just seconds ago and that the proud curve of his cock is straining against his boxer briefs.

Grantaire grabs his hand and pulls him up against him, kissing him, biting at his lower lip before licking into his mouth and sucking on his tongue, making those small sounds Enjolras cherishes.

“Bedroom. _Now_ ,” pleads Grantaire against Enjolras mouth.

The journey to the bedroom is a blur of tangled limbs and and feet shuffling, and would have probably been quicker had they gotten their hands off of each other and not divested Enjolras of his underwear, almost making them trip in the process (it’s not a trip to the ER I want to have to explain to our friends.)

Enjolras is spread on Grantaire’s bed at last, eyes closed, enjoying the coolness of the sheets against his back contrasting to the heat of Grantaire’s bending over him, retrieving lube and condoms from the nightstand.

Enjolras spreads his legs in anticipation, his breathing accelerating, waiting for the tell tale sound of Grantaire uncapping the bottle. When nothing happens after a couple minutes, Enjolras opens his eyes to the sight of Grantaire, eyes screwed shut in concentration, biting his lip, and gripping his cock at the base.

Enjolras stands up on his elbows and asks “What are you doing?” with a touch of impatience.

“Trying to recover from my boyfriend sucking me off so I can actually fuck said boyfriend into the mattress without coming embarrassingly fast,” deadpans Grantaire.

Enjolras lights up.

“What?” asks Grantaire.

“Nothing,” says Enjolras, still grinning. “Boyfriend.”

Grantaire lights up in return, shakes his head. “You’re ridiculous, boyfriend of mine. Yeah, I said it. Mark my words. My boyfriend is ridiculous.”

Enjolras huffs. If he’d known making their relationship official and calling each other boyfriends would have that effect, he’d have done it a long time ago. He grabs the bottle of lube, swiftly coating his fingers and starts prepping himself.

“What are you doing?!” asks Grantaire in turn, eyes wide and staring hungrily as Enjolras scissors himself with two fingers. He’s all efficiency and is not purposefully putting on a show, or so Grantaire is trying to convince his speeding pulse and his cock, which are _very_ interested in the show Enjolras is not putting.

“Last I checked my boyfriend said he was going to fuck me into the mattress, I’m just trying to get on with the program here.”

“Jesus Enjolras. You’re not helping.” He bats Enjolras’ hand away, coats his fingers with lube. He presses one against Enjolras, teasing. It goes easily after Enjolras’ ministrations, so he adds a second, admiring the blush spreading  down Enjolras’ chest, the way his breath hitches, locking eyes with him.

They both love this, not considering this merely a means to an end, Enjolras would have a lot to say about Grantaire’s hands and what they’re capable of doing, but even if Grantaire is not rushing this, he’s not teasing and dragging it out either like he’s been known to do (the little shit). He doesn’t wait for Enjolras to beg (much). He angles his fingers precisely the way he knows will make Enjolras squirm the most and gasp, making aborted motions to reach grab Grantaire’s shoulder.

“Grantaire. _Grantaire_. Grant _AIRE_. Please, _please_ ” pants Enjolras.

“Getting there. Try not to knee me in the face.”

“That was... _ah_... that was one time! fuck, just… _ah_ … I’m ready Grantaire _please_.”

“You sure?”

“Yes for fuck’s sake Grantaire will you just fuck me already!”

“Well, if you’re asking so nicely, _boyfriend_.”

Grantaire makes a motion for the condom he laid out earlier.

“Don’t bother,” says Enjolras, “I mean, if it’s something you would be interested in? We’re both clean so...”

Grantaire nods frantically, lets the foil packet go, and slicks his cock, before lining himself up, grabbing Enjolras’ thigh and guiding it high on his waist. He eases in by increments, shallow thrusts that make Enjolras pant and make Grantaire’s breaths shallower in return.

When Grantaire bottoms out, he slumps forward, bracing himself with his hands next to Enjolras shoulders. He stays still, looking Enjolras in the eyes, appraising him, marvelling at the feel of him so tight around him, skin on skin.

“You okay?” asks Grantaire.

Enjolras kisses him. “Yeah. You feel really good. You can move. _Please_.”

Grantaire stays still and Enjolras is getting desperate for some friction. He tightens his legs around R’s waist and tries to snap his hips, to no avail. Grantaire just feels incredible, and the way he kept his thrusts shallow while circling his hips to get Enjolras accustomed to the delicious stretch and burn of the first of penetration has him craving for more.

“Grantaire. _Move_. _please_.”

At last Grantaire moves and Enjolras lets out a breath of relief. He closes his eyes, concentrates on the feel of Grantaire everywhere, the way he’s resting his head in the crook of Enjolras neck, nosing gently, the way his back bows under Enjolras’ hand with each thrust.

Grantaire is building up a rhythm that has Enjolras grunting with each snap of his hips, a comfortable back and forth that makes their muscles burn in the most satisfying way with exertion, and when Grantaire re adjusts slightly their position he manages to find the perfect angle, hitting Enjolras just right, making him whine and grab at the bars in the headboard behind him, as if grasping for support.

Seeing this, Grantaire seizes his hands, entwines their fingers and pins their joined hands against the mattress and Enjolras could kiss him because it’s exactly what he needed, so he does. They’re too lost in each other to make it coordinated but it feels really fucking good as their lips and tongues brush, it’s the most pleasant feeling, warm and languid, paired up with the electrifying sensation Enjolras can feel running along his spine and putting every single muscle in his body in the most splendid state of bliss.

Sounds fade around Enjolras when Grantaire makes a fist around Enjolras’ cock. The slap of skin on skin, the _Enjolrases_ Grantaire breathes out like a litany against Enjolras’ neck, it all blends into Enjolras’ mind. He knows he’s getting close and so is Grantaire so he urges him harder and faster, swallowing Grantaire’s grunts and moans as Enjolras clenches around him.

Enjolras comes first, toes curling and tightening everywhere around Grantaire and spending in Grantaire’s hand and on his chest.

Grantaire follows him quickly, Enjolras’ choked cry and subsequent moans of his name tipping him over the edge.

It takes them a while to come back down from the high, but they do eventually, Grantaire pulling out gently and stretching languidly next to Enjolras.

There’s still a hint of heat in Grantaire’s eyes as he holds Enjolras’ gaze when he brings his hand to his mouth and lick Enjolras’ come from his fingers, before getting a pillow from behind him, divesting it of its pillowcase to use it to clean them up as best he can. It’s not like they need two pillows anyway, what with Enjolras using him as a pillow.

After that they snuggle and trade lazy kisses, letting their hands roams all over each other, content to bask in the afterglow.

“I can’t believe you put out on our first date,” jokes Grantaire.

Enjolras slaps him half heartedly on his chest but he’s too content and fucked out to come up with anything else. “You’re ridiculous” is his best reply.

“Yep. That’s me. And you’re stuck with me. Stuck with a ridiculous boyfriend.”

Enjolras doesn’t get tired of hearing this. He smiles and rolls over Grantaire to kiss him some more and makes a silent vow not to berate Marius about being sappy during meetings ever again because if anything, now that they have their shit together, he and Grantaire are probably worse than Cosette and Marius now, not that he’s thinking about Marius and Cosette at this precise moment.  


End file.
